Last Friday night…
My friend, lets call her Carli Preston, and I met up for drinks and some dinner. After a long work week with people and the ongoing beat of life giving me a good work out, I was up for a chilled evening of flavoured vodka and stuffed zucchini flowers.
In fabulous Melbourne style, Carli Preston and I were to meet in the rain at a roof
top bar. I decided to walk there, in the rain, with my umbrella raised in defiance to the water, but welcoming of the rains-mood. Chilled, and chilly.
After brisk walk, during which I twice thought to flag down a cab on, I arrived at our destination. Naked for Satan. Probably not the venue one would expect with that name. But it is truly a well-known crowning jewel of Fitzroy’s stomping ground. Flavoured vodka, delightful morsels and exceptional views, if you can get a table.
Carli had arrived early to procure us an outdoor table, secure from the rain, hoping for the city views.
Unfortunately there were only a handful of tables on the city side with shelter from the rain, so we instead scored a table on the northern side, overlooking the suburbs, and the choked, but still flowing arterial that is Brunswick Street on a rainy Friday night, from 5 floors up.
Beautiful. And warm. Toasty, as one would expect in the presence of the southern form of deity, so hot in fact we had to ask for the overhead heater to be turned off from time to time.
Anyway, I found Carli at the bar, efficiently securing a table with the help of the young man at the next table, whilst ordering her favourite imbibe, house made salted caramel vodka. A delectable journey of savoury sweetness, for your whole mouth!
This is truly the flavour of the evening. Carli and I were both in a good, and chatty mood, loads to catch up on after he recent trip. We got drinks (a flavoured vodka tasting trio) and headed to the table, thanked the nice, lone diner at the table next door, and sat side-by-side looking out on the bright lights and raindrops.
Shortly into our evening, the lone diner next to Carly was joined by a young lady. Soon afterwards, a well-dressed young couple populated the vacant table next to me.
What then played out for Carli and my entertainment was a game of first-date bingo. Carli was first to score with the overheard snippet “where do you live”, I then quickly afterwards got on the board with “where are you from” on my side.
Carli seemed to be on the winning side because conversation flowed better on her first date. She checked off “what do you do”, “where do you study” and an affectionate hand touch. My guys were a bit stilted, but I was optimistic. As I always am. Feelings often followed by disappointment.
We made food orders and procured more vodka tasting trios, they are so tiny, really tiny. You need loads of them. That is no comment on the bar; it is a comment on how yummy the morsels are.
Everything tasted SOOOOOO good. The rain interspersed with moments of clarity, much like our dates. I mean the dates happening on either side of us. Not our dates. I, personally, am datily challenged, and I don’t know anything about Carli’s dating-ability. Nothing.
But our neighbours are going for gold. On Carli’s side. And for the wooden spoon on my side. On her side there was laughing, there was hair flipping (on his part) and ear hair-tucking on her part, and much conversation.
On my team they got up to leave. Yip. Real early they did. And were replaced by another couple, who, I assume, were not on their first date.
My team had…ummm, nothing? Ummm, they gave it a luke-warm shot. I guess Satan’s heat was too much, or too little, to generate spark between them. And you know what?
I am more proud of them than I am for Carli’s successful couple. At least they tried, put it out there, and went for an opportunity that was NOT a guarantee. I am so proud. They were the worst couple ever. I hope they find someone. But we should all be prepared that there are at least 6 more weeks of winter.
Also, I hope Carli finds someone, and that I find someone. I am ridiculously optimistic. RIDICULOUSLY!